


Something New

by elizaye



Series: Fifty Follower Fics [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M, Protective Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaye/pseuds/elizaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek takes notice of one of the bench players on the team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something New

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fic for my 100th follower, [time-lords-vs-daleks](http://time-lords-vs-daleks.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Prompt: _Could you maybe write a cute fluffy stiles/derek story? Possibly where Derek is a really popular jock who falls for a kinda nerdy, not so popular Stiles?_

It’s early when Derek gets to the locker room—he’s team captain, so he likes to be there before the rest of the team, and if that means getting there at 4:30 in the morning, then so be it.

But when he gets in today, the lights are already on, and someone’s bag is sitting on the bench. Frowning, Derek looks at the locker that’s been unlocked, but he doesn’t recognize the number, and when he thinks about it, he can’t remember anyone using this locker.

He inhales, and the scent—a strange combination of old-book smell and a touch of the woods at night, of crisp, clean air and freshly-turned earth—isn’t familiar to him. This irritates him because as captain, he’s supposed to know everyone on the team, and how can he know someone without knowing their scent?

Clearly he hasn’t been paying enough attention—this must be one of the bench members, and if he’s got the dedication to show up even earlier than Derek, then he deserves Derek’s recognition.

Derek deposits his bag by his own locker, gathers his gear, and exits the locker room, walking out toward the field. A figure is at the far end of the field, doing a lap, and Derek drops his lacrosse stick, helmet, and gloves on the ground. Then he starts to cut across the field, taking a path that’s sort of diagonal, so that he’ll catch up with the runner along the track.

It doesn’t take long for him to catch up, and he was right—this _is_ one of the bench players.

“Stiles,” he says, keeping pace easily, and the boy actually jumps, startled. He stumbles a little, and Derek half-reaches out to help, but Stiles manages to catch his balance. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Derek says.

“Oh, no,” Stiles says, a little out of breath, “it’s fine.”

“You do this often?” Derek asks.

“Do what?”

“Get here early to run.”

“Uh, n-no,” Stiles replies. “Why would I do that? I hate getting up early.”

“But you’re here now.”

“Yep, guess I am,” Stiles says, and then he’s gone, and it takes Derek a moment to realize that Stiles only disappeared because he stopped running.

“Why’d you stop?” Derek asks, turning around and watching as Stiles walks toward him.

“I know it might be shocking to you, but some people aren’t actually in perfect physical shape,” Stiles says.

Derek chuckles and waits for Stiles to catch up, falling into pace beside him as they head back toward the bleachers.

After maybe thirty seconds of silence, Stiles says, “Okay, why are you talking to me?”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to talk to my teammates?”

“Well I mean, when you put it that way… but still, you’ve never even _looked_ at me before. And you’re team captain, and you’re always sitting with Jackson and Danny and Lydia, because y’know, the cool kids stick together.” Derek is surprised that his eyebrows haven’t hit his hairline by now, but Stiles just steamrolls on, “And then there’s me, and I’m not a horrible person or anything, but I’m just—gawky, and nerdy, and, and just—everyone likes you!”

“Stiles—”

“I mean, I’m me, and you’re _you_ , and never the twain shall meet!”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek says, more force behind the word this time.

“Yeah, yep,” Stiles says, looking over at Derek.

“First off, I think being team captain means I _should_ be talking to you. And—”

“But I’m on the bench. I don’t even play—”

“Stiles.”

“Yep.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, yeah. Shutting up. Zipping it. Not talking anymore.”

“ _Stiles_.”

Stiles mimes zipping his lips shut, and Derek huffs an incredulous laugh, because how the hell is it possible that he’s never noticed this guy before? He’s seen the name on the roster, sure, and he’s seen Stiles around, but he’s never paid attention, never tried talking to him. He does know that Stiles is best friends with Scott McCall, another guy who’s on the bench.

“There’s no reason why we shouldn’t be talking,” Derek says. “You can even join me at lunch, if you want.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles is saying before Derek even finishes speaking, but then Derek’s words actually seem to hit Stiles, and the guy turns toward Derek so quickly that Derek’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “Wait—are you—did you just invite me to _have lunch_ with you?”

Derek shrugs. “Yeah, I guess I did. Would that be a problem?”

“Uh, um. Well could Scott come? Wait, no—what I meant to say was, don’t you think your friends would mind? Scott and I aren’t exactly buddy-buddy with all the people you eat with.”

As he finishes speaking, Jackson and Danny come jogging out of the locker room, followed by a few other teammates, and Stiles rubs the back of his neck, avoiding Derek’s eyes. Derek can _smell_ the anxiety on him, and he can read the way Stiles is preparing himself for disappointment in the set of his shoulders.

“Hey,” Derek says, and Stiles’s head jerks up. “Go ahead and bring Scott.”

Stiles gives off an intoxicating scent when he’s pleasantly surprised, Derek decides, because he’s so caught up in it that he doesn’t even catch Stiles’s response—it doesn’t help that the guy talks so freakin’ fast.

“Hey, Derek,” Danny says as he and Jackson arrive.

Stiles subtly starts shifting away even before Jackson says, “Are you talking to Stilinski?”

Derek looks between Jackson and Stiles, takes in the way Stiles is bracing himself for Derek to turn on him, and the happy-smell has all but faded. “Yeah,” Derek says to Jackson, but he’s looking at Stiles instead, so he catches the way Stiles’s eyes shoot open, a small, involuntary smile stretching his lips, and Derek thinks he really likes being the cause for that smile. “We were just getting to know each other.”

Jackson scoffs at this. “What—why would you want to get to know _him?_ ”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“How ‘bout because—”

“Because nothing,” Danny cuts Jackson off.

“No, Danny, let the man talk,” Derek says, folding his arms across his chest, because Stiles is totally not happy right now, and Jackson needs to answer for it. And then Derek wonders, abstractly, how and when he became so protective over the guy—he literally only noticed him like ten minutes ago.

But Danny’s giving Jackson a very pointed look, and Derek sees that Jackson won’t finish his thought from before, not without the proper encouragement. He steps forward, intending to give him just that, but he’s stopped by a hand on his chest, and he flicks his eyes to the side to see Stiles there, warm, chocolate-brown eyes grounding him.

“Hey, as much as I’d like to see Jackson get his ass handed to him, we’ve got a game tonight,” Stiles says. “And I don’t know ‘bout you guys, but I want us to win, so… maybe leave the ass-kicking ‘til after the game?”

“You think you’re being funny, Stiles?” Jackson sneers.

Derek very nearly growls, only just managing to keep it to a near-inaudible rumble vibrating in his chest. But Stiles’s hand hasn’t left his chest, and Stiles draws his hand back now, eyes wide.

While Derek is looking at Stiles, Danny herds Jackson away, and when Derek focuses in on their conversation, he hears Danny telling Jackson that he needs to figure out when to keep his mouth shut, because Danny’s not always gonna be there to babysit him.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, apparently accepting Derek’s near-growl as a fluke. “That was a good thing to—I mean, you totally didn’t have to do that. It’s nothing I haven’t put up with before, y’know.”

More team members are coming out of the locker room now, and Derek says, “You shouldn’t let him talk to you or about you like that.”

Stiles just shrugs. “Hey, the dude’s popular, and I’m well, I’m not. So we don’t mix. It’s not a big deal.”

Derek wants to say more, but then Coach gets there and gestures for Derek to join him. “I’ll see you at lunch, then?” he says to Stiles. He jogs away before Stiles can say anything, because he has a feeling that the guy would make excuses to get out of it.

On his way over to Coach, Derek listens to Stiles, and apparently Scott has reached him and is saying, “Dude, were you just talking to _Derek Hale?_ Why?”

Stiles just says, “I have… _no_ idea,” and Derek would never admit the flare of disappointment he feels at the casual dismissal. And then Stiles changes the subject to a girl named Allison, which seems to throw Scott entirely off track.

Coach starts telling Derek about the drills they’re gonna do today, but Derek’s not really listening. It’s not as though he really needs to—they do the same drills every game day. So he lets his mind wander to Stiles, glances over just in time to catch Stiles’s eyes on him. Stiles instantly looks away of course, and Derek smiles.

“What’re you smiling about, Hale?” Coach asks, frowning.

“Nothing. I just have a good feeling about tonight’s game,” Derek lies smoothly.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Coach says, confused but going with it, and then he blows his whistle and shouts for everyone to do a few warm-up laps.

Derek always leads the warm-up run, so he takes off at a moderate pace around the field, Coach’s shouts getting fainter as he gets farther away from the bleachers— _Hustle, hustle! Greenberg, late again? You get an extra lap—move, move, move!_

There’s something fascinating, addicting, about Stiles—not just his scent but his person in general—and Derek can’t put his finger on it. It’ll probably take some time and effort for Derek to get to the bottom of this, but as he makes a turn, he glances back over his shoulder, sees Stiles jogging beside his best friend, and thinks that it’ll be worth it.


End file.
